The Deep End
by P.L. Wynter
Summary: A young Ryan learns how to swim. oneshot


**The Deep End**

The summers in Fresno seemed to get progressively hotter as the years went by. As far as Ryan Atwood was concerned, never in his six years of existence had he been as hot as he was now. Unfortunately for him, the Atwood household was conveniently without any sort of air conditioning whatsoever. Only a few people on Ryan's street had air conditioning, but none of them were people Ryan knew very well. Trey could sometimes weasel his way into their house, offering to do some sort of housework or whatnot, but whenever Ryan tried to tag along, he just got in the way. What housework could a six year old do properly?

So Ryan opted to stand in front of the refrigerator with the door open. He would have gone for the freezer, but it was well out of his reach. At the moment, Ryan thought that nothing else in the world could feel as good as the cool air from the refrigerator felt. He closed his eyes and listened to the light hum of the refrigerator as it kicked on to work harder to keep its contents cool. The noise blended with the low voices of the television from the other room, where Trey was laying on the couch, stripped down to his boxers. Dawn was rummaging around in the bedroom, looking for a spare fan that she knew she had lying around somewhere. Ryan's Dad, John, was outside working on his car, pointedly ignoring the heat.

"What the hell are you doing?" Dawn's angry voice broke through Ryan's happy delirium. He turned to see his mom slamming the fan down onto the counter. She had tied her shirt up so her stomach was exposed and she had cut the sleeves off her shirt. Her hair was pulled back loosely and Ryan could see she was agitated. She walked angrily over to where Ryan stood and closed the refrigerator door harshly. "Are you trying to refrigerate the entire fucking house?"

"Sorry," Ryan mumbled, but Dawn had already moved on as she plugged in the fan and turned it to oscillate. Ryan watched as Dawn pulled over a chair and sat down right in front of the fan, sighing in content as the cool air blew into her face. Maybe he'd be able to sneak in a turn later when Dawn got bored. But for now, he knew that he'd better find something else to do.

Walking into the living room, he found Trey looking half comatose lying on the couch. His brother's limbs were sprawled out awkwardly and looked as though Trey had flung himself down and hadn't had the strength to rearrange himself into a more comfortable position. Ryan plopped down on the end of the couch that Trey wasn't occupying. The movement caused Trey to give a growl of warning. Ryan instantly stopped moving, not wanting to incur the wrath of his brother.

About half an hour into an episode of some cartoon Ryan had never seen before, John came into the house, his face red and sweaty, his shirt stained with oil, and his hands dirty and bleeding in a couple of spots where he had scraped them against some part of the car. But it was nothing new to Ryan to see his Dad's hands so rough. In fact, when he thought about his Dad, they were the first things that came to mind. Rough hands for a rough guy. But both could be soft when they wanted to be.

John went into the kitchen and reappeared moments later with a dishrag, wiping his hands free from the grime and blood. He came to stand behind the couch, eyeing what his sons were watching on television for a moment. Ryan tugged at his sweat soaked undershirt and looked up at his father, but John didn't look down. In a few moments, John walked out from behind the couch and turned off the television.

"Hey," Trey protested half-heartedly. "I was watching that."

"You're too old to watch that crap, Trey," John said before pulling open the grubby curtains and letting the sun come in. Ryan and Trey squinted against the new light and Trey managed to push himself up so he was propped up on his arms. They both watched their father tentatively. "You should get outside today."

"Yeah, right," Trey said, falling back down onto the couch. "It's hot as an ass crack out there," Trey muttered.

"Watch your mouth," John warned. "I'm serious," he went on, "I have some people coming over to look at the car. I don't want you around."

"You're selling the car?" Ryan asked, his eyes wide at the notion. His Dad loved that car.

"Maybe," John said, absently looking out the window. "Depends on how good their offer is."

"Whatever," Trey grumbled, turning onto his back on the couch and looking at the ceiling, his arms cross over his chest. John looked over at him, his eyebrows furrowed in irritation. "I heard you and Ma talking. We're strapped for cash. You're going to sell that car no matter what they offer. They could give you fifty bucks and a blow job and you'd take it."

"I said watch your mouth," John snapped, coming over to the couch. He grabbed Trey's arm and hefted him off the couch. Trey caught himself before he fell and looked at his father defiantly. "I should smack you upside the head. Don't you talk like that in front of your brother."

"Why?" Trey whined, shaking his arm out of his Dad's hold. "He hears stuff like that all the time."

John's face was somewhat passive. But his eyes were burning. "Where?" he demanded, looking over at Ryan, who was sitting quietly watching the exchange with wide eyes.

Trey shrugged. "Mom," he said and sat back down.

For a few minutes, the room sat in an uncomfortable silence. Ryan was nervous. He hated it when his family fought. He never knew what to say. John's face had turned red and his eyes bore holes into the side of Trey's head. Trey saw uncomfortably on the couch, every once in a while glancing up towards their father and trying to stare him down, only to lose horribly and look back down at his lap. Finally, John turned around so his back was facing them. He took a deep breath and his shoulders dropped. "I want you out of the house for at least two hours." Trey got up silently and headed towards his room to put on some clothes. Ryan sat still, waiting for his brother so he could follow him out. He looked up hesitantly at his father.

"Are you really going to sell the car?" he asked quietly.

John turned his head and regarded his youngest son for a moment before shrugging slightly. "Probably," he gave. "But it's only temporary, Ry. We'll get a new car eventually."

"Can we get a red one?" Ryan asked, his eyes lighting up. John gave a soft smile at the boy's excitement.

"Why not?" He reached out and ruffled Ryan's mop of golden blonde hair. Ryan immediately went to smooth it down, giving his father a dirty look before the smile returned to his face and he bounced off the couch.

Trey emerged from his room, dressed in shorts and a wife beater. He walked pass them without a word and headed towards the door. Ryan ran around the couch to catch up with him, not wanting to be left behind.

"Trey?" John called, his voice low. Trey stopped but didn't turn around to look at him. "It won't always be like this." The words were spoken softly. Ryan looked between his father and his brother, but neither one of them would look at him. He didn't really understand what was going on, but he could guess it had something to do with their Dad selling the car.

Trey gave an almost inaudible, "Whatever," before opening the door and making a beeline for his bike, which was leaned up against the wire fence in the front yard. Ryan turned around and gave a small wave to his Dad before running to his own bike. The door closed almost immediately behind them.

"Where are we going?" Ryan asked, wondering what his brother had in store for them.

"How the fuck should I know?" Trey spat, shoving off and starting to speed away on his bike. Ryan had a harder time going, since his bike was a bit too big for him.

"Trey, hey, wait up!" Ryan called, struggling to gain enough speed to catch up to his brother. Trey didn't stop and kept getting further away as he raced down the sidewalk. Ryan couldn't go as fast as his brother, but he hoped that he wouldn't lose track of him. He didn't know what he would do for two hours. "Trey!" Ryan called again, unable to keep the desperation out of his voice. "Please!"

Trey suddenly skid to a stop, turning as he did so. Ryan caught up with him and stopped, breathing heavily as he stared at his brother. Trey was regarding him hatefully. Finally, Trey sighed and looked around. "Look, Ry, why don't you go to the school playground or something?"

"Why can't I stay with you?" Ryan asked, squinting at his brother through the sun. They both were already sweating from the heat.

Trey rolled his eyes and looked around. Suddenly, he seemed to get an idea. He looked back at Ryan as though he were sizing him up. Licking his bottom lip, Trey grinned. "I've got an idea," he said. "Come on," he shouted as he took off again on his bike. Ryan was ready this time and was able to keep up, for the most part. Trey had to slow down a couple of times on their trip to his mystery destination, but by the time they got there, both boys were panting in the heat.

They stopped in front of a small house that was nicely kept up. The lawn was cut and there were flowers in the window. "Stay here," Trey said before he jumped off his bike and headed for the front door. Ryan looked around a bit at the yard. There were some toys off to the side, but they were piled neatly. A couple of swimming pool noodles were in the corner and Ryan wondered if they had a swimming pool. He'd always wanted a swimming pool, even though he didn't know how to swim. He thought that if they had one, he'd be able to learn. That way, one day he could convince his family to go to the beach. They'd only been once and it wasn't that fun. Ryan had ended up getting sunburned and was unable to go in the water because he couldn't swim and Dawn didn't want to wade around with him.

"Ryan, come on man," Trey called from the front porch. Ryan got off his bike and followed Trey around the side of the house. When they got in the back, Ryan saw that they did indeed have a pool. It was an above ground one, but it was huge, with a slide and everything. There were some floating toys along the side of the pool. The backyard was a lot messier than the front yard was. Trey turned to his brother. "Look, just stay out of my way for a while," Trey told him. "The Browns give me money sometimes for weeding their rose bushes." Trey held up his hand and Ryan saw some fresh cuts there. "Thorns," he explained. He grabbed Ryan's shoulder and pointed him towards some of the pool toys. "Try to straighten those and maybe they'll give us some extra dough. We could, I dunno, get some ice cream or something."

"Really?" Ryan asked, surprised that Trey would think of something like that.

"Fuck yeah," Trey answered, already getting to work on the weeds.

Ryan grinned and turned back to pool toys. It took him less than seven minutes to get the toys in order. He looked over at Trey to see how far along he was, but saw that Trey still had a bit to go. Every so often, Trey would cuss out the rosebush for having thorns. Ryan could only frown at some of the words Trey would say. If their father heard him now, Trey would surely be taken over John's knee. As Ryan was turning back towards the pool toys to see if he missed any, his eyes caught color in the pool. Unable to see what it was from his place on the ground, he headed towards the ladder. He climbed carefully, the smell of chlorine assaulting his nose. When he reached the top of the ladder, he saw there was one more pool toy floating in the pool.

Reaching carefully towards where the pink toy floated, Ryan tried to grab a hold of it. His fingertips brushed against he plastic material and it floated a little further away. Ryan twitched his lips, wondering how he would get to the toy. He really wanted to have enough money to get ice cream, especially if Trey was digging through thorns to get it. Holding onto one of the bars of the ladders, he reached out a little further, his feet balancing on the edge of the pool now. He was so close to the reaching the toy, just a little further.

It happened so fast, Ryan didn't know what was going on until it was too late. One of Ryan's sneaked feet slipped, causing him to dip forward harshly. His grip on the ladder slid off easily and in less than a second, Ryan had splashed into the pool and was submerged underneath the water. Panic and fear laced through Ryan's body and he opened his mouth to scream. Instead of sucking in air, he sucked in a lungful of water. He coughed, but only managed to bring more water into his lungs. He began to thrash violently, panicked to get to the surface and breathe in some air, which he finally managed to do. He tired to yell out Trey's name, but it came out a gargled, mangled sound. He thought he heard Trey scream his name, but he couldn't be sure as his head slipped beneath the water once more.

It didn't take long for Ryan to get tired. His lungs were burning and his strength failed quickly. Spots started to dance at the corners of Ryan's eyes. He struggled with one last attempt to try and get to the surface. His eyes caught sight of Trey's frantic face above the surface before Ryan's vision started to fade and his eyes closed.

Trey was panicked. When he'd heard the splash, he had immediately turned, expecting to see Ryan throwing something into the pool. He'd been ready to yell, to get angry, to tell Ryan he wasn't worth the time. But when he heard something thrashing in the water, and then a garbled yell, Trey's world had crashed down around him. He'd yelled for help and had climbed the ladder, unsure what he was going to do since he himself couldn't swim. When he saw Ryan struggling to keep afloat in the middle of the pool, he'd froze, unsure what to do. Luckily, he didn't have to wait long as Tim Brown, the man who owned the pool, had rushed out, taking off his shirt and had climbed over the side of the pool and jumped in.

In a matter of seconds, Mr. Brown had retrieved Ryan and was now laying him down in the grass. Trey climbed down the ladder and stood to the side, trying to see if his brother was all right. When he caught a glimpse of Ryan's face, Trey couldn't believe what he was seeing. Ryan's face was pale, sullen. His lips were turning blue and even as he watched, his the blueness seemed to spread across Ryan's cheeks, neck, and chest.

"Is he…?" Trey couldn't finish his sentence. Mr. Brown was feeling for a pulse. He put his head near Ryan's lips. He didn't answer Trey as he tilted Ryan's head back and pressed his lips against Ryan's. "What are you doing?" Trey protested, not sure what was going on. "Ryan?"

Carly Brown came out of the house, the phone in her hand. "I've called the ambulance," she told her husband.

"He's not breathing," Tim said and Trey let out an exasperated sound. Tim put his lips to Ryan's once more and then started to compress his chest. "Come on, kid," he said, willing Ryan to take a breath.

The procedure was repeated a few times before Ryan suddenly coughed harshly, water spewing from between his lips. Tim rolled him onto his side as Ryan vomited, expelling the water from his lungs. Trey collapsed beside his brother and pulled him into a hug. "I'm sorry," he said, unable to hide the sob that was in his throat. "I'm sorry," he repeated. The sounds of sirens soon met their ears.

A couple hours later in the hospital, Trey sat with his Mom on one side and his father on the other. Trey had apologized to them, but Dawn had said she didn't want to hear it. She yelled at him and blamed him for what had happened. She'd gone off on him in front of everyone. John had finally calmed her down, but all of them had yet to talk since Dawn's explosion. When the doctor came out with Ryan in tow, Dawn was the first to run over and wrap Ryan up in her arms. Ryan looked a little shocked at the motion, but soon returned the hug.

Dawn kneeled down in front of him. "Are you okay, kiddo?" she asked, stroking back his hair.

Ryan nodded, looking over at his father, who was standing sternly back. Trey came forward next and apologized. Ryan just hugged him and that seemed to be enough to ease his brother's mind. John still didn't make a move to go to his son. The doctor decided now was the time to speak up. "Ryan recovered just fine," he said. "We got the water out of his lungs as best we could. If he has a cough for a couple of days, that's nothing to worry about. It should be gone by the end of the week. If anything else comes up, just bring him in and we'll check him out."

"Thank you," John's voice was gruff. The doctor nodded and John ushered his family out of the hospital.

Ryan wasn't sure what to do. He knew that his Dad was mad, but he wasn't sure what he could do other than apologize. He half expected them to head to the parking lot, but instead, they went to the bus stop and waited for the bus. They sat in silence, with Dawn's arms wrapped around Ryan, holding him tightly against her as if she were afraid to let him go. Trey stood quietly to the side, head down and hands shoved in his pocket.

The bus ride was just as quiet. No one said a thing and when the bus pulled off to their stop, Dawn finally let go of Ryan. John stepped forward then and placed a hand on Ryan's shoulder. Ryan was suddenly scared. Had he done something wrong? He hadn't meant to fall in the pool. He was only trying to help out Trey. He felt the urge to apologize again, but John didn't give him the chance. "We'll meet you at home," he said.

"Where are you going?" Dawn demanded, frowning.

"Doesn't matter," John barked, guiding Ryan towards the sidewalk. Ryan looked over his shoulder at Dawn and Trey. He saw Dawn turn to Trey and point a finger in his face. He sighed and walked away, holding up a middle finger at her. She yelled at him and went after him. John didn't let Ryan watch anymore of what happened as he suddenly turned him into a building.

"Where are we?" Ryan asked, noticing that he didn't recognize the building. John didn't answer.

They walked up to a desk and John reached into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet. He handed the woman at the desk a twenty dollar bill and asked, "Got an extra set of trunks?" The woman nodded and pointed him in the right direction.

Within a few minutes, Ryan was changed into a set of swimming trunks that weren't his. His father's hand had never left his shoulder and soon John was guiding him towards a swimming pool. Ryan couldn't help but feel afraid as he thought about the water that had sucked him beneath its surface, suffocating him. Ryan looked up at John. "Dad?" he asked, hesitant to know what was going on. John didn't answer. "Dad?" Ryan tried again.

"You need to learn how to swim," John stated in a matter-of-factly voice. He pointed towards the water. "I'm going to teach you the way my dad taught me." John led Ryan towards the deep end of the pool. Ryan felt his heart leap. He didn't want to do this. He didn't want to go in the water again. He couldn't. He didn't want to know how to swim.

"Dad. I don't…"

"Remember to keep kicking like you're riding a bike and move your arms like you're swatting at a fly," John said before he picked up Ryan underneath the arms and tossed him into the pool. Ryan hit the water and was in an instant panic. On instinct, he kicked his legs and broke surface. He let out a cry and he heard his Dad yell, "Kick, Ryan."

Listening to his Dad, Ryan tried to fight back the tears of fear that fell out of his eyes. He let out a sob. "Please!" He screamed as his head sank beneath the surface. Panic nearly overwhelmed him. Through the water, he could hear his father yelled at Ryan to kick and paddle. Ryan focused on the voice and tried to kick. He kicked hard and frequent. His head broke the surface again and he took in deep, panicked breaths. "Dad!" Ryan cried, accidentally sucking in some water. He coughed harshly and immediately stopped kicking. He began to sink again until a hand grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the edge of the pool. John's hands felt extra rough as he pulled him to the side. They felt like sandpaper compared to the cold, fluid water. But, as rough and as calloused as they were, they picked him up and saved him from drowning.

Ryan coughed for a few minutes before the coughing turned into sobbing. He looked up at his Dad, who was holding his arm so he wouldn't sink. The look on John's face scared Ryan to death. His father had tears in his eyes, but his face was solid, unreadable. John looked determined. "Stop crying," John whispered. "You're okay," he said, a bit more soothingly than his other words. Ryan sobbed a few more times before he finally sniffled and looked up at his Dad, waiting for what was next. "I'm going to let go again."

"No!" Ryan yelled, fearful suddenly again. "Dad, I can't…"

"Damnit, Ryan," John barked, making Ryan freeze in fear. His father had never hit him besides the occasional spanking, but he had seen his father hit other people before and whenever he swore like this, he usually followed it up with a smack. But none came, to Ryan's surprise and relief. "Now, listen to me," John ordered and Ryan did his best to concentrate on what he was saying. "As much as I want to think otherwise, I know that I won't always be there for you to pull you out of things like this. You need to start fending for yourself, you need to learn how to take care of yourself because there won't always be someone to save you."

"But Dad…"

"No, Ryan, no matter what anyone tells you, the only person who can save you is you." John pushed Ryan away from the wall. Ryan struggled a little to hold onto his father's arm, fearful that if he let go again, he'd sink beneath the water. "You need to kick and you need to fight." John said, his voice rigid with emotion. "That's the only way you can get out of this. Now do it, Ryan. I won't pull you out this time."

With that, John let go of Ryan's arm. Ryan immediately began to sink, but he started kicking, like he was riding a bike like his father told him. He didn't sink as fast, but he was still sinking, so he began to wave his arms. Ryan's head slipped beneath the surface but he struggled a little more to push his face above the surface. Ryan's head dipped dangerously close to going under, he had to keep his face pointed at the ceiling, but otherwise, he was staying afloat. He kicked harder and moved his arms faster.

"That's it," John called from the side of the pool. Ryan tilted his head to look at him and saw his father smiling, though there were still tears in his eyes. "You're doing it Ryan."

Ryan kept it up for another few minutes before John finally reached in and pulled him out. Exhausted more than he had ever been before, Ryan collapsed into his father's arms. John wrapped him in a towel and picked him up. Ryan laid his head against his father's shoulder, his mind reeling about what had just happened. He was half afraid that his father would throw him in again and half in awe that he had actually learned how to swim. John's hand began to stroke his back as he carried his son towards the locker room. Ryan felt comforted as John's rough hand soothed Ryan's back. "You did good, Ryan," John whispered as Ryan felt himself falling asleep from the exhaustion. "Just remember to always fight. That's all you can do in this world."

Ryan didn't know it then, but he'd come to live by those words.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I thought I would try something a little bit different. I thought of this one night while I was watching some of the earlier episodes when Ryan was in the pool at the Cohens. Tell me what you think of it. If I get good responses, maybe I'll try to write some more young Ryan stories. I kinda enjoyed writing this one. Peace!


End file.
